Liesel's Memoryfilled Tears
by Ciekawa Osoba
Summary: Liesel doesn't die as an old woman, oh no, she dies at 24. Her thoughts as she lies on the cold, grime-filled ground with her blood pooling around her, with no-one around to console her but Death. Alternate ending, one-shot. Angst.


_A/N: This is just something I started in English Class as a journal, then expanded on it and turned it into a one-shot. Please tell me what you think of it._

**_Based off of 'The Book Thief' by Markus Zusak_**

Liesel's Memory-filled Tears

'It's been ten years now,' Liesel Meminger-Hermann thinks as she walks down the street to her house-no, mansion-to visit her family. Her mind wanders back to when Ilsa Hermann first adopted her, the only survivor of the Himmel Street bombing near the end of Hitler's reign.

She certainly had not put up as much of a fuss as she had when first brought to Himmel Street; she would have been tantamount to homeless. The mayor had always had an arduous job and was an assiduous man, coming home an hour before sunrise at times. Therefore, he was extremely strict with her, reprimanding her for each miniscule wrongdoing. He never physically hit her, but his words stung like a multitude of hornet stings. Ilsa was unable to help her adopted daughter very much; she would not and could not go against her husband. So, Liesel often took to burrowing herself in the library with piles of books surrounding her. Ilsa joined her at times, reading in silence and occasionally giving her feedback about the books she wrote to vent her emotions into. The years passed by in a flash in this manner.

Liesel smiles as she remembers all the books she wrote back then. She only kept one, her original book. The Book Thief, by Liesel Meminger. The book that reminds her of Rudy, Hans, Rosa, Max, Tommy, and even Frau(Mrs. Or Ms. In German) Holtzapfel every time she looks at it. Her smile disappears, replaced with a bittersweet expression. Those were some of the happiest times of her life, but thinking about them only brings her grief.

She sees a child dressed in rags walking towards her. He is limping, and she hears him letting out the occasional whimper, most likely of pain. His body is covered in a plethora of cuts and bruises. "Are you alright little one? Do you need some help?" she asks in a concerned tone. The child stays silent, though he keeps plodding towards her. The child is a couple yards away when Liesel reaches into her purse warily, for hunger makes people irrational and violent. She takes her eyes off the child for a mere second, and feels a sharp pain in her sternum. She falls onto the moist, sullied ground and sees red… such a pretty color of paint… no, apples. The same apples that she and Rudy stole all those summers ago are on her.

She cannot contain her tears as she is inundated with emotions and memories. Rosa Hubermann, constantly yelling, 'You saukerl, get a real job!' at her husband and waving around her metal cooking spoon. But, she also took the time to take care of her and even informed her that Max had awoken from his illness-induced coma. Liesel wanted to tell her that she loved her, but, alas, her foster mother died before she could gather up the courage to do so.

Hans Hubermann, who taught her to make sense of the runes in The Grave Digger's Handbook, with his molten silver eyes and love of cigar-rolling. He could always calm her playing his piano-accordion. The man who survived his enlistment in both World Wars, but then was killed painlessly off-duty.

Rudy, the lemon-haired blue-eyed boy who once covered himself in charcoal and ran around the track, emulating his hero Jesse Owens. The same boy who near-incessantly asked her for a kiss, and she was so blind to not see her feelings of love for the boy she had known for four years until she kissed his corpse.

Max Vandenburg, the Jew hiding in their basement. The Jew who boxed Hitler in his day-mares and night-mares. The same Jew who painted over the pages of Mein Kampf and made books for her, his own personal weather-girl. Liesel doesn't know whether he is alive or not. Her torrent of tears slowly start decreasing as she feels the boy stealing her purse and removing whatever he used to stab her in the heart.

But still the memories and emotions do not cease. Tommy Müller, the near-deaf sporadically-twitching boy who she pitied at times. He was always good company during Himmel Street daily soccer games. Did he hear the bombs before his death?

Frau Holtzapfel, who she read The Whistler to during and after the air-raids when they were stuck in the bomb shelter. The woman who was slowly whittled away by grief when one of her sons died in the battlefield, the other coming home with grievous injuries. The woman who would not leave her house before one of the minor bombings after her only remaining son hanged himself.

Liesel feels her body go numb as her eyes stop leaking salt water and the memories cease. She sees the now partially-corporeal form of Death come for her with a beatific smile on his face, trying in vain to console her. She smiles as she fades away, Death gently holding her in his arms.


End file.
